


Baby if I've got You

by haku23



Category: Dark Avengers (Comic), Fantastic Four (Comicverse)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-20 02:16:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3632880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haku23/pseuds/haku23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daken working out his big scary caring feelings for Johnny post-Dark Avengers etc. Slight AU as usual.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby if I've got You

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired to finish this after I saw the party variant of Secret Wars #1...
> 
> I've been working on this for awhile under the name big bi johnnydaken fic haha but I've finally finished it(or at least finished it as far as I'd like to finish it). You could probably read it as occurring in the same universe as Blind to be honest, with this being further down the line of their relationship and I'm not going to say that I won't write more set in this timeline because inevitably I will....

Johnny may as well be his sister for how transparent he acts. They walk through the park at a leisurely-or what counts as such by Johnny’s standards-pace and their hands bump every so often, like a period on the end of words unspoken. Well, unspoken for the moment anyway.

 

The air smells of rain, the remnants of the morning’s downpour, and Johnny’s expensive cologne, Johnny’s shampoo and soap on their skin, of horse manure in the distance. Nervous energy smells similar. To horse manure, not rain, but Daken doesn’t ease it away. Not because he can’t; because he tells Johnny his path coincides with that of “good” and “good” people don’t pheromone their lovers into quiet complacence. Well, not always. Not now.

 

“Hey.”

 

“I’m assuming you intend to catch my attention and not say hello considering we’ve been walking for almost half an hour now, Johnny.”

 

He laughs-something about how Daken speaks amuses him, he says often-and his hand bumps Daken’s again, “yeah. Can I ask you something after this because I already asked you something?”

 

“Is that the sound of you catching on?”

 

“You’re not as hard to figure out as you think.”

 

Daken rolls his eyes and his hand bumps Johnny’s, “what do you want to ask?”

 

A spike of anxiety precludes another laugh, “it’s kinda…embarrassing. And if you don’t wanna do it you don’t have to cause you said-you said a lot of stuff and-“

 

“In the park?”

 

“What? No. Back,” Johnny points like Daken doesn’t know their exact location give or take a couple of feet, “at the house.”

 

“Apartment. But yes.”

 

“And I don’t want to force you to do anything you don’t wanna do or-“

 

He sighs to let his displeasure be known; Johnny doesn’t act half as hesitant when he wants to have sex usually and outdoors hardly counts as the strangest place he fucked someone so it must be something truly embarrassing or entirely absurd. “It’s not like I’m a virgin, Johnny. I’ve had sex in a park before.”

 

“What? No! What? I wanted to-man, it sounds so stupid now that you said that…”

 

“And yet you haven’t asked me anything.”

 

He laughs and runs his hand not currently bumping Daken’s through his hair, “I just wanted to hold hands.”

 

What a stupid reason to be nervous he doesn’t say because the look he gives him says it for him. He grabs his equally stupid hand, “there.”

 

“Is that-okay I-“

 

“If you don’t shut up I won’t do it again.”

 

Johnny shuts up-for a whole ten minutes-and Daken forces his face into a neutral expression. Just residual emotions, like second-hand smoke, that even now can still get to him if he lets his guard down enough. He should break away and let them fade, these feelings that don’t belong to him, but he doesn’t. His heart beats, a shrivelled mass in his chest though it may be and it no longer strikes him as odd that it echoes Johnny’s, not when they stand so close, with their bodies connected by fingers and palms.

 

Still, synchronized heartbeats or not, the urge to smile can’t possibly originate from him.

 

“Come on, I know you know how to smile.”

 

“Didn’t I tell you to shut up?”

 

“I did.”

 

“I meant indefinitely.”

 

Johnny laughs, everything represents a game to him though a different sort than Daken usually plays. “You would miss hearing my voice eventually. You call me all the time.”

 

“Hm. I don’t think so.” He _does_ call regularly when they both can’t be in the same room together for longer than a few moments but only because relationships need to be maintained like a garden and like it or not he can’t string Johnny along for months at a time on the promise of contact anymore. He grew wise to the rules of the game and Daken should really stop playing it with him before he forgets that none of this will ever be real.

 

Perhaps in a week, a month, as long as it takes for him to grow bored of this new challenge, he will vanish in the middle of the night just to see what happens, just to feel the second-hand hurt that Johnny will ooze like pus. He can’t decide if he would go back, if the payoff would be enough to bother with the fight that he won’t pheromone his way out of. Eventually Johnny will stop feeling excited for him to show up; maybe that will be the end. 

 

“Stop scheming,” Johnny squeezes his hand and grins. Women fall all over themselves to have that smile directed at them and Johnny gives it freely, like a prize from a cereal box but those women exist outside of their game, smiles or not, and so Daken doesn’t feel the need to make an example of one of them. That sort of thing always meant more to Lester and his twisted sense of affection anyway but then Lester is, _was_ , a psychopath. Such a foolish time in his life. He needs to make his own name to be satisfied, not take another’s, he sees that now.

 

“I’m not.”

 

“Yeah you are, you got that look on your face.”

 

He raises an eyebrow, “and which look is that?”

 

“If I told you that you’d hide it better. So what’s the plan this time?”

 

“Bank robbery.”

 

“You don’t rob banks,” Johnny shakes his head, sure of himself. Certain that now, not like back then, that he knows Daken and his intentions.

 

“Not lately. I did in Japan all the time.”

 

“Seriously?” and now he believes him. A hint of truth easily makes a lie more believable and Johnny lacks the resources to do a search of his record immediately.

 

“No,” he says, “I never had to.”

 

Not for money, anyway. He rarely did things for money but rather because of his orders from Romulus or simply to prove he could. His blood turns cold, just the memory him enough to set him on edge but Johnny’s hand warms in his and foolish or not it calms him some.

 

“Y’know…I was thinkin’…”

 

Daken says nothing partially because his jaw feels permanently clenched and partly because Johnny feels nervous again, the scent over-powering enough that he seriously considers calming him artificially.

 

“We can always use another set of hands on the team. And you could help a lot of people…if you wanted?”

 

“You’d like me to join the Fantastic Four.”

 

“Not-Not officially. Then it’d be more like the Fantastic Five. Or Seven-Eight? depending on whether anyone else is around,” he counts in his head and then nods, satisfied that he has included everyone no doubt, “but there’s an extra set of spandex with your name on it if you ever feel up to it.”

 

“I’ll think about it.”

 

It feels too much like putting down roots. He pushes it out of his mind, the same anxiety from before clawing at him-foolish. He needs to get a hold of himself, needs to get away from Johnny and the rest more if something so ridiculous has him spiralling. He has a vision of a skydiver with a twisted parachute, plummeting swiftly to their death, or perhaps the falling makes him seize up. Yes, perpetually falling, stagnating, scares him more than simply the ground coming to meet him.

 

“Just think about it. No one’s asking you to commit to one thing, I mean, Spider-Man’s on how many teams now? The guy gets around. It’s more like a don’t call us, we’ll call you, kinda thing.”

 

“Hm.”

 

“Am I being really obvious that I want you to say yes?” Johnny slumps, defeated. He buzzes with energy now, his entire scent changing from moment to moment to reflect the ping-pong match that represents his current emotions. Anxiety, doubt, excitement, hope, relief all muddled together like Johnny’s disastrous first attempts at breakfast in bed.

 

“Yes. It’s a good thing I never think about what you want.”

 

“Yeah, good thing.”

 

“I have some things to take care of, can I meet you back at the apartment?” he asks without truly caring about the answer. Johnny tightens his grip for a second then lets go.

 

“Forget what I said about the team, all right, it was stupid. I know that’s not really your style.”

 

Back peddling-he knows his mistake now, knows he stepped on a mine in a field of them and now tries to free himself without making it explode but it will. Daken will make sure of it. “I don’t know why you’re so nervous, Johnny.”

 

“Because I know you, Daken.”

 

“No you don’t,” he says and Johnny is looking at him instead of the park or the path the walked on. He doesn’t see him as a stranger, he looks at him as if he knows him.

 

The scariest part of it all is that perhaps after everything he does.

 

“Just go. I’ll meet you back at the apartment,” he finally fortifies himself and shoves his hands into his pockets as though he doesn’t still stink of anxiety.   

 

Perhaps trust makes him let Daken go despite his emotions. It disgusts him-Lester, Mac, Karla, Norman, he could understand them but this puzzle sits unfinished in his mind, missing pieces that he can’t find no matter how many times he shakes the box. He leaves Johnny in the park and walks to one of his safehouses in another neighbourhood. The idiot will find someone else, one of the women he smiles at that Daken suddenly finds himself wishing he knew the location of. He treks a path back and forth between the front door and the bedroom that in spite of all of his efforts still has hints of Johnny’s scent clinging to it. He packs his things and unpacks them, taking only the essentials then discarding them because of attached memories. Stupid, stupid, he let this go too far. It’s like yanking up a sapling instead of a tiny sprout just beginning to poke out of the earth. He sweats as he sits on the bed-Johnny has been here only once and has been convinced Daken no longer rents it but his clothes still reek of him. He finds himself texting Laura of all people; Laura who may understand even a tiny bit. She replies almost immediately as though waiting for a message though he doubts from him.

 

They meet each other halfway at a café and she looks confused and yet she still sits and orders food as if she expects to be here awhile. He modulates his emotions carefully, not allowing a hint of uncertainty to poison the calmness he now must will upon himself.

 

“It has been a long time since Madripoor,” she says and wrinkles her nose at the coffee sitting between her hands. It smells bitter and too strong for someone who doesn’t need caffeine to get through their day like Reed-he pretends not to know that-and so he pulls it towards him before pushing his at her.

 

“You’ll like this better.”

 

“How do you know?”

 

He smiles, “I’m guessing.”

 

“This one smells better,” she looks down at the drink in front of her and reaches for her old cup, “but I want to try it.”

 

A second later she hands him back the cup and he takes it as confirmation that he knows her taste. Neither of them really need the coffee though and so he leaves it to cool, unconcerned with keeping up appearances when between the two of them they have 12 deadly weapons waiting beneath their skin. “Why did you call?”

 

“I wanted to see how you were doing.”

 

She turns her head to the side, “that is not the only reason.”

 

He taps on the side of his cup, a staccato beat from a song he doesn’t remember the name of at the moment. When did he get so transparent? Johnny’s fault. Laura’s fault, this entire “not limiting your heart” thing came from her, didn’t it?

 

“You seem…happy.”

 

Can she smell the stench of panic on him? No, it can’t be that-she must really believe the man sitting across from her has found some tiny morsel of happiness. He doesn’t know how she came to that conclusion except perhaps because this shirt doesn’t belong to him and the watch definitely came from Johnny’s closet as well. He wears him like a trophy but the items tighten around him like a noose.

 

“Appearances deceive.”

 

“Did something bad happen?” she tenses, her scent shifting behind the light scent of her shampoo to something with a tang of steel.

 

Bad doesn’t cover it. He should be happy-the promise of prolonged contact with someone usually makes someone happy, it makes Johnny happy-but it twists in his head into something terrifying. “He asked me to join his team.”

 

Laura doesn’t need an explanation because they all work better alone but as with all of his father’s lineage they can be persuaded to join a group. Laura’s stint with the X-Men certainly seems to be as permanent as things with people like them can be.

 

“That scares you.”

 

“I never said that.”

 

She looks at her coffee, “it scared me too. I was afraid that after everything they would not accept me. People like us…are different than even other people.”

 

“Weapons, killers, it’s what we’re made for, Laura,” he feels his hand going for the pocket in his jacket with his phone and stops himself. She notices and smiles-she looks happy. It should chafe except that he doesn’t have to struggle to shove envy back; he finds that he smiles too. Odd. More second-hand emotions trying to take the place of his constantly mounting restlessness.

 

“Yes. But we can choose why we fight. I have a choice and so do you.”

 

He leans back in his chair, wanting to project ease while his mind roils, “we’ve had this conversation before.”

 

“You listened.”  

 

“Are you seeing anyone?” he says instead of confirming her suspicions. Limits on his heart still exist, he keeps them there because they fit like well-worn in shoes instead of new ones that cut into his heels and leave him bleeding and vulnerable.

 

“We’re,” her cheeks flush so yes, or at the very least she has her eye on them, “talking about your relationship, not mine.”

 

“So you are. What’s he like?”

 

“He’s kind.”

 

“Is he cute? What’s his name?” he lapses into questioning her as he has done so many times with others-people respond easily to his questions and rarely ask ones of their own as he aims to keep it-but he doesn’t pretend that he will distract Laura for long with this ploy.

 

“Yes,” something else that makes her smile. He likes it, hers are not so freely given as Johnny’s, “I can’t tell you that.”

 

“How did you meet?”

 

“How did you and he meet?” she asks instead and that he _doesn’t_ like. He prepares to switch tack but she persists, hunting the scent of blood in the water like the kind of predator that they are, “Is he kind to you?”

 

“He’s an idiot.”

 

“Does he treat you well?”

 

“Does it matter? You know as well as I do how difficult it is to kill us.”

 

She shakes her head, denying his attempt to get her off track, “answer.”

 

He grins with gritted teeth, her persistence here just as troublesome as in Madripoor, “I didn’t take you for the type for overprotectiveness, Laura.”

 

“You are my family.”

 

“Don’t.”

 

“Please answer me.”

 

“And if I won’t?”

 

She smells calm, controlled and he still falls, still forever watches the earth rush up on him and now he feels the bile of envy rising in his throat. They could fight again and destroy this café, probably make the news, but instead of rising from her chair or pinning him to the table with her claws she takes a sip of her coffee.

 

“I just want to know you are not being hurt.”

 

“Johnny could barely stand to hurt me when he _wanted_ to and he doesn’t want to now. Satisfied?”

 

She nods and takes another sip of her coffee.

 

~~**~~

 

“I messed up,” he drapes himself over the couch in the living room and Ben drags his hand down his face, “I thought he was ready. He seemed ready.”

 

“Ya ain’t even said what ya messed up yet.”

 

“All I suggested was that if he wanted to suit up with us sometime he could and he freaked out. He kinda hasn’t said anything since then and it’s been two hours,” he flops onto his back, “he’s been on teams before.”

 

“Two hours.”

 

“Two hours is a long time. He could be in Madripoor or something by now and I think he still has one of my watches.”

 

He lies there for another twenty minutes, alternating which side of his face he morosely squishes into the couch until Ben drags him to his feet and out the door.

 

“Where are we going?”

 

“Hear there’s some kids that wanna meet the Human Torch,” he throws him-nearly literally-into a car and they traverse the New York City traffic like two not entirely normal people until they reach one of the hospitals the Four has made an appearance at in the past.

 

He doubts Daken will ever do this kind of thing if he ever comes back but then Johnny doesn’t exactly date him because of the amount of charitable works he does. Daken is like a match-burns quickly and hotly but can’t last and Johnny isn’t stupid. But no one has ever said he doesn’t try, and Daken has been trying too. Of course that was before Johnny went and messed it all up.

 

But he pushes that out of his head and throws on his best smile for the kids-and nurses-of the long term care ward. It should make him sadder seeing them because he can’t help but think of Franklin and Val but kids somehow manage to get excited to see him in spite of how sick they might be so he focuses on that instead.

 

“My sister says you can’t fly, Mr. Torch,” says one of them and he recognizes it for the trick it is but acts like he doesn’t, his eyes widening in fake shock.

 

“Can’t fly? Me?” he points at himself with a grin, “I can totally fly, right Ben?”

 

“Ya’d fly to the kitchen for a snack if yer sister didn’t have a rule.”

 

The girl looks at him, unimpressed with words alone, so he in turn looks at the nurses, “what’dya say, can I totally win this bet for Amal?”

 

They don’t even bother feigning surprise considering he does this _every_ time he visits and instead go about making calls for any kids who want to fly with him’s parents while Ben slips off to the burn ward. If his phone rings he doesn’t hear it over the sound of kids screaming and laughing.

 

He does, however, see the thing in the sky that looks way too much like Reed has brought something in from the multiverse again and a minute later Ben waves him down and they have to be off.

 

~~**~~

 

The news covers the incident fairly quickly and so Daken doesn’t need to look outside to see that yet another “issue” has occurred at the Baxter Building. Reed, no doubt, but he doesn’t think of Reed. Of course Johnny has already arrived and seeks to wrangle the beast however it seems immune to any sort of fire and bats him out of the air like a particularly annoying fly. The camera cuts away as people scream but the café stays mostly quiet and calm and not by his doing. Such things have become commonplace and they lull themselves into complacence when they see the Fantastic Four taking care of the problem. They might as well be sheep, placidly chewing on their food as the world crumbles around them-pathetic.

 

“Should I call the X-Men to help?” Laura vibrates with excess energy that he too feels in his bones at the prospect of a fight.

 

“No. They have their number.”

 

“Will you go?”

 

Johnny hasn’t rejoined the fight and the camera zooms in on him prone and defenseless, blood oozing from a wound on his head. Perhaps he’ll have brain damage and forget Daken even exists. A sick thought but his brain feels full to the brim with them. It would make everything much easier.

 

His foot taps against the floor and he can’t seem to make it stop.

 

“Why are you torturing yourself?” Laura asks, staring at him as she always does as though she can see into his soul-or the place where it should be.

 

“You don’t understand.”

 

“No,” she says and gets to her feet, “if you will not go then I will.”

 

He wants to snap at her, to destroy this café with the force of their fight but he doesn’t because Johnny streaks across the screen and the vice around his lungs loosens. The trophies of him heat, reminding him of the warmth of his hands and he stops pretending to drink his coffee and pushes himself back from the table. If he doesn’t go how will it look to the others? That alone makes him get to his feet-nothing else, no affection.

 

“Would you like a ride?”

He takes it and they reach the fight in time to be of some use, Daken calming the crowd and creature with pheromones and them both slicing into flesh through the outer carapace of the monster. He ignores Johnny and everyone but Laura-they still work so well together even now, their movements and thoughts in sync so they rarely need to speak.

 

They respond to Reed’s call to pull back and let him capture the beast though Daken really would like to kill it and be finished, to shake him and Johnny for being so stupid.

 

The clarity doesn’t last, not when Johnny flies over, the flames receding the closer he gets, and grins at him like an idiot even while blood trickles from his head and he keeps blinking like it will bring the world back into focus. “Daken.”

 

“Next time use your head for once instead of just charging in. I was in the middle of lunch with Laura.”

 

“Dude, youuuuu were worried about me,” his grin somehow gets even bigger and he stumbles now that his feet have touched ground. Daken grabs him before he falls though he should just let him hit the pavement again to teach him a lesson.

 

He could let himself fall, let himself hang in the air waiting forever to slam into the earth, or he could let Johnny catch him-his only two options and both make him want to run. He rolls his eyes and sighs, his hands leaving smears of green monster blood on Johnny’s pale blue uniform when he tightens his grip on him.

 

“Yes,” he says, “I suppose I was.”

 

Johnny smiles at him and Daken smiles back and for now he stops freefalling.

**Author's Note:**

> And then they went home and made out a lot the end hahaha 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
